


The Eye of the Beholder

by EffervescentAngel



Series: Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit One Shots [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Cultural Beauty Standards, Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Insecurity, Miscommunication, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentAngel/pseuds/EffervescentAngel
Summary: Prompted by the meme "Never compliment a woman on her mustache, no matter how epic it is!"





	The Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I've had in the back of my mind for a while. May be re-worked at some point. I hope you enjoy! Comments/requests are always welcome :)

In a rare show of consideration, Thorin had paused the company for the night earlier than usual. This probably meant an especially grueling day was coming tomorrow, but no one wanted to look at this gift horse too closely. Everyone settled into their evening routines with practiced ease: Bombur and Bofur began chopping the vegetables Bilbo, Nori and Ori had been gathering throughout the day, to put into a stew with meat from the stag Kíli had shot. Ori began mending his torn boots. The brothers moved to a clearing to settle a bet on who could throw their knife the farthest in the remaining light. The others busied themselves with various tasks they'd had no time to attend to with the breakneck pace Thorin had everyone travelling. You, meanwhile, found willow bark and various other needed herbs to grind into paste. It had been far too long since any of you had properly bathed and your complexion was showing it. Tonight would provide the perfect opportunity for an after-dinner face masque.

 

Before long, dinner was ready and everyone crowded in to receive their portions. You had learned at the beginning of the trip that if You didn't use your elbows, you wouldn't eat. Not that they ever deliberately denied you food, but you had never encountered a group that ate so much so quickly. Soon you had all filled your bowls and were settled in. As you took your seats, you noticed Kíli eyeing the pouch you had tied around your belt. You really didn't want to explain to the whole group about your skin concerns, so you hoped he would let it go.

 

“What's that pouch you've got there?”

 

No such luck, apparently.

 

“Nothing.” you tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible.

 

“Doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't have that pouch earlier today.” Why was this so interesting to him?

 

“It's really no-”

 

“Is it candy?” his eyes glowed and his mouth turned slightly up in childlike curiosity. Before your brain had caught up with his thinking, his expression quickly soured, as he said, “No wonder you didn't want us to see it. Where would you even have bought candy?” His tone was accusing now.

 

You opened your mouth, but Fíli broke in before you could speak. “Who has candy?”

 

Kíli nodded at you, “She does.”

 

“And you're so certain she'll be sharing it with you?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Can't imagine there would be anythin' left after she gave me some!” He winked and smiled winningly at you. Your heart skipped a beat.

 

“Gentlemen, really I-”

 

“What's all this about?” Ori's voice cut you off.

 

The brother's replied in unison, as they did when something was of equal importance to them, “Candy!”

 

Ori immediately turned to you, looking hurt. “Why didn't I get some candy? I gave you my jacket last week when it rained?”

 

“Jacket? Hah! I carried her pack when she got blisters on her feet! If anyone should have candy, it should be me!”

 

“You were only able to do that because I took your watch shift the night before when you were too busy oiling your mustache braids!”

 

“You're just jealous 'cause I have a mustache to oil!” This last remark from Fíli caused both of the other young dwarves to turn on him. But before they could open their mouths to properly dress him down, another voice broke in.

 

“The next one who speaks will be wearing ornamentation to match Bifur's.” Dwalin's tone left no doubt that this threat would be carried out. A brief glance at the shining axe-head protruding from Bifur's skull was all it took to quiet them all down. You hoped this would be the end of the discussion on your pouch.

 

And it was.

 

Until after dinner, when you were looking for your small mortar and pestle to begin grinding the plants into a paste.

 

“If you weren't goin' to share, why do you have it on display like that? It's cruel is all I'm sayin'.” Ori wasn't going to just let this go, apparently.

 

Again, you opened your mouth to retort, but were slow because of the lie you hadn't finished formulating, when an unexpected voice joined in the discussion.

 

“You do not understand this, being human, but we Dwarves, especially those of us who hail originally from Erebor, share freely with each other whatever food we have. The sweets aren't the issue, lassie. It's your denial of a good thing to those you would claim as friends.” Balin's rebuke was gentle but to-the-point, and would have been quite sobering, but for the fact that he had it all wrong. The laugh that burst out of you was short, but loud enough to deepen the frowns of all the Dwarves now glaring at you.

 

“You find our history of starvation amusing?” Thorin's voice held much more venom than anyone who had spoken before, “I should not be surprised. I spent enough time in the world of Men to know the true hardness of their hearts.”

 

This was getting way out of hand and you knew you would just have to bite the plank and explain yourself.

 

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, it's not candy!!” You burst out in a single breath. Your shout had opened the company's faces from betrayed anger to surprise.

 

“It's not?” Kíli's voice held such confusion. You sighed.

 

“No, it's something for... me. Externally.”

 

Now the company just looked confused.

 

“These are the herbs I use to beautify myself.” At this, Gloin, who was married, huffed a short laugh and went back to his pipe.

 

Bofur, on the other hand, for all his claims of being an expert on females of all races, was not so astute. “How?”

 

“Well,” here you opened the pouch to show mixed herbs and began pointing out the various ingredients, albeit reluctantly, “this will help remove excess oil from my skin, and this tiny flower here will brighten my entire complexion...”

 

You hoped you could skip past the one you were hoping not to have to explain.”

 

“What's that one right there?” You shouldn't have been surprised at Ori's unguarded curiosity.

 

“That? Oh that's just a depilatory, some extra exfoliation.” Hopefully that answer would suffice.

 

But this time the betrayal came from an unexpected corner. “I used a depilatory once, when I went to go see a specialist in Longbottom. Took all the hair right off my foot. Powerful stuff, that.”

 

You had always had an easy relationship with Bilbo. You were now considering changing that.

 

His brief observation did, at least, distract the younger dwarves.

 

“What was wrong with your foot?” Kíli was quick to ask and Bilbo, though he looked slightly discomfited, was polite in his answer. “Well it's a bit embarrassing, really. I had gotten it stuck between two shelves in my pantry and I got all these little splinters in it and well, as you can imagine--”

 

“Now, let's just all hold on a minute here, shall we?” Nori leaned in towards you and planted a hand on his knee, far too invested in what he was about to say for your personal comfort, “Nothing happened to your foot, so 'ow come you're fixing to have all the hair off o' you?”

 

“It's for... for... for my face.” You pushed the last part of the sentence out in one gust, a blush spreading across your face.

 

Bofur looked horrified, “You mean you're fixin' to remove your eyebrows and-and your eye--”

 

“No, no nothing to do with my eyes. This is for the.. ah, rest of my face.”

 

“The rest?” Bofur was puzzled.

 

“Yes. You know, nothing major, just to smooth the texture.” You gestured around your face, but saw they still struggled to comprehend. “I have some fuzz on my upper lip, um around my uh, jawline.”

 

Comprehension dawned on all their faces. But you should have known that this was by no means a guarantee that they were anywhere near the same page as you.

 

“Aw, c'mon, Love. Don't sell yourself short.” You blushed at Dori's unexpected praise. He was a prickly soul, so any compliment from him must be sincere. “That's nothin' like fuzz. What you've got there is the beginnings of a quality mustache.”

 

He gestured with his pipe as he said this, and puffed at the end, as if to declare that what had been said was an inarguable truth. Your smile dropped and your heart plummeted at the decisive nods flurrying around the camp. You took slow, steadying breaths, trying to quash the humiliation rising in you.

 

The brothers immediately chimed in, eyes shining and smiles wide.

 

“Why, it's one of the first things I noticed about you!” Kíli's pronouncement cut deep, poking at one of your fundamental insecurities. You had always struggled with a certain amount of excess facial hair on the upper lip and chin. That unusual feature had brought ridicule in the past.

 

“Oh, indeed! Kíli's absolutely right. If you just let it go a bit and leave the hair on your jaw as well, it'll be a thing of beauty in no time!” Fíli's voice held a note of encouragement, and you felt your heart twist painfully. You were struggling to believe these two sweet-faced Dwarves had the capacity for such easy cruelty.

 

Balin, ever the voice of reason and more tactful than the rest of the company, broke in. “Now now, lads, the young lady's... very slight fluff, is by no means her most distinguishing feature and you know it.”

 

He smiled kindly at you, and you managed a tremulous half-smile in return. Balin never said an unkind word about anyone, except perhaps in reference to their character, and never in jest.

 

The company was quick to accept Balin's interjection and began murmuring their assent. The youngest ones still maintained that it was still quite visible. You couldn't speak at this point, too afraid that you would begin crying if you tried. All you had left in this moment was that small portion of dignity, though that was precarious as your eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

 

It was Bilbo, carefully polite Bilbo, who drove the final nail into that coffin.

 

“Of course, Miss, your facial hair is by no means anything at all to take notice of.” You should have known better than to relax at his echoing of Balin's earlier statement. “When the thickest hair is on your legs and feet. Why, I noticed it the first time you took off your boots to bathe your bare feet in the creek. Almost distracted me from how big your feet really are, for a human, at any rate.”

 

All the breath left your lungs in a single rush, then sucked back in in a painful sniff before you clapped a hand over your mouth and cried, knees drawn up towards your chest, sobbing in a manner that would later horrify you. The tears streamed out of your tightly closed eyelids down your cheeks. Before you could embarrass yourself further, you scrambled and fled. When you were maybe ten yards from the camp, you dropped down onto a log and allowed the tears to engulf you again.

 

\-------------

 

Back at the camp, thirteen bewildered Dwarves and one very surprised Hobbit considered what had just happened.

 

“Is she upset?” Ori's question was met with incredulous looks from all around. He quickly became interested in polishing his pipe with the hem of his tunic.

 

Across the campfire, Kíli spoke very quietly, “Fee?”

 

His brother grunted, “What is it, Kíli?”

 

“I think we might have said something wrong.”

 

“You're an idiot, Kee.” Then more softly, “We all are, apparently.”

 

\-------------

 

You felt warm, strong arms wrap around your knees and back. Your cheek burrowed into soft fur that smelled of incense and tobacco, as well as its natural scent. You felt yourself being lifted off the ground and settled onto a broad, lean lap. It was a few moments before Fíli spoke.

 

“I owe you an apology. We all do, really, but I suppose that my dept is greatest. In our culture, a beard is a symbol of adulthood. Add to that the fact that we are the descendants of Durin. To be known as “Longbeard” but have practically no facial hair of your own is a shameful thing, especially among males.”

 

You sat up in his lap slightly and wiped your eyes so that you could look at his face, not understanding. “But you have a full and beautiful beard. Perhaps it isn't long, but that's a choice you made. I really don't see how our situations compare.”

 

Fíli's face reddened and a small smile formed on his lips. “Why, thank you, lady. I am gratified to hear it, but it isn't myself I was referring to.”

 

What was he talking about? Who-?

 

Kíli. Of course.

 

He saw the moment comprehension dawned on your face. “My brother was ridiculed cruelly when he reached the age when a Dwarf should be able to grow his hair full and thick, yet all he had was sparse stubble. It tells young Dwarf women that he is... incapable. As his older brother, it was my job to defend him and build him back up when he felt low and looked upon his face as if it was completely devoid of hair. That's why I joined in tonight. I responded blindly to your declaration that what you had was naught but fuzz.”

 

“But you weren't the only one who said I had more than fuzz. What makes your transgression greater than theirs?”

 

“Because I knew and they didn't, not even Kíli. He knew the sting of being bare-faced and he sought to spare you that pain, as the others did, by insisting to you that were not. But I knew the signs of hurt and humiliation and was blind to them because I lapsed back into the time when I had to defend my brother from malicious rumors.”

 

He removed his hand from around your knees and stroked your face with his knuckles. “Your skin is a beautiful, even tone. Your bone structure is refined and your cheekbones high. Your lips are rosy and full. Your face is perfectly symmetrical. Your eyes are a brilliant, sparkling shade that tells me what you're thinking before you even speak. These are the things I should have said to you when I saw the first wrong word pierce you. Instead I caused you the same hurt I once witnessed in my little brother.”

 

You sniffed and looked into his eyes. His face was full of compassion tinged with regret. You were softened by his motives and warmed by his description of you. You sighed. “I didn't know how to handle being the only female in the group and have my deepest insecurities poked at. I thought you were mocking me.”

 

“I only wanted to assure you of your beauty. The only female in a group of Dwarves, who have so few women of our own to treasure, would never be the subject of ridicule as entertainment. We all deeply regret our actions tonight.”

 

You wanted to forgive him, but you hesitated, your wounded pride unable to back down just yet. Tonight he had hurt you deeply. You hadn't expected him to affect you more deeply than the others had with their careless words. Yet as you had sat here alone in the dark, replaying the events of earlier in your mind, trying to pull yourself together again, you couldn't escape Fíli's voice. You now tried to come to terms with the implications of this.

 

Fíli had the same bent for mischief as his younger brother, the same zeal for anything and everything new. He was as thoughtful as his uncle, as intelligent and duty-bound. Yet there was a softness in his eyes that Thorin rarely possessed, and a quiet attentiveness Kíli had yet to display. He was compassionate and courageous.

 

His words tonight were out of character for him. Now you knew why. You also were beginning to realize why that mattered so much.

 

There was lingering pain from the scene in front of the campfire, but he had just shown you a courage that would likely never be shown by Thorin, or truthfully, any other member of the company. He had been wrong. Openly, humbly wrong. As you looked at him, you chose to see the fiercely protective older brother, rather than the thoughtlessly hurtful young Dwarf.

 

You reached up to stroke his face gently. He nuzzled into your palm, eyes closing happily as a cat might. His arm tightened around your shoulders and you could feel his thumb rubbing your shoulder through the layers of fabric that protected you from the evening's chill. In a sudden rush of boldness, you twined one of his mustache braids through your fingers and rubbed the bead on the end between your thumb and forefinger. You touched the braids that hung on his temples and experimentally tugged one. His head dropped back and he let out a low groan. You yanked your palm away, afraid you had hurt him. Instead, he opened his eyes and looked at you squarely.

 

“I've wondered what it might feel like, to have you tugging at my braids.”

 

You were confused for a brief moment. Why would anyone want their hair pull--? You felt your cheeks heat as you realized what he was implying, He grinned at your expression in the low light and gathered you to him so he could whisper in your ear. “I wouldn't mind a bit o' that now, in fact.”

 

Your heart raced. Your mouth went dry. On an impulse, you leaned in and kissed him. He responded immediately, kissing you with all the enthusiasm of his youth, combined witha gentle precision that made your stomach tighten and your knees weaken. You wrapped an arm around his neck and clung to him as he coaxed your mouth open and swept his tongue inside.

 

You were surprised when he pulled away. “Does this mean I am forgiven?”

 

You pretended to consider your answer. “I suppose so, provided proper... reparations are made.”

 

He was on you again before you could draw your next breath. He stood, with you still in his arms and began walking. You barely noticed at first, so wrapped up in the intoxicating smell and taste and _feel_ of him. He was warm. He was solid. He was entirely focused on you. Your toes curled within your boots as he sucked on your lower lip.

 

When he moved to set you on your feet, you protested wordlessly and held on tighter, tugging gently on his temple braids in the hope of staying in his arms. He growled into your mouth and crushed you to him briefly, before releasing you. You looked around, disoriented, and realized you were now in the same small clearing where you had gathered most of your herbs earlier. Fíli was looking at you somewhat sheepishly.

 

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to sound annoyed. “You were spying on me?”

 

“Not spying so much as... noticin'? You are quite fascinating to me.” He bent down to pick a small flower. “With all your feminine habits and preferences, you're a rare and special sight in this Company, perhaps to me, more than anyone. You must know that..”

 

You felt your cheeks heat at his words, your heart softening further. He continued, gesturing around the open space. “Which brings us here. Earlier, you spoke of reparations,” He raised a hand when you opened your mouth to protest, “and while I realized that was spoken in jest, I intend to prove myself honorable to you.”

 

He bent down and began gathering the plants you had shown the group around the fire. The ones he missed, you pointed out to him, though his memory of each herb and flower he showed you was impressive. You hadn't realized he'd paid such close attention. He looked up into your face as he cut a tiny bud from its woody stem, and smiled warmly. You blushed in response.

 

If someone had told you just twenty-four hours ago that you would be standing in a clearing the middle of the wilderness while a Prince of Durin gathered plants for you to perform a facial, you would have laughed incredulously and told them to check their pipe in case something other than tobacco had found its way in.

 

With a flourish, he turned back to you to offer the newly gathered ingredients. You silently held the pouch open and he carefully poured everything inside. When you moved to tie the pouch back onto your belt, he stepped right in front of you. As you tugged the knot closed, he caught your chin in his hand and took your mouth in a soft, slow kiss.

 

You leaned into him, curling your arms around his strong back as he gathered you close. His mouth gently opened yours and you whimpered softly, gripping the leather of his coat and pressing yourself against him. His beard and mustache tickled your face, but smelled heavenly and you breathed in as much as you could, trying to absorb this perfect moment. His hands stroked your back and held you tightly as he continued to kiss you, patiently draining away the last of your pain from earlier.

 

When you parted,he held your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones.

 

“We should head back,” you said without conviction, “before the others start to wonder.”

 

“No doubt they already are. They're wondering where, exactly, the conversation went wrong. They're wondering where we could be and they're likely also wondering if I'll be back in time to take first watch.”

 

He smoothed your hair back from your face and kissed your nose before his expression morphed into a naughty grin.

 

“But love, I guarantee, they already know what we're up to.”

 

He laughed as your jaw dropped open, your face flushing. He pecked you on the lips and darted off into the trees. It took you a moment to make your legs work, then you dashed after him, laughing as well.

 

Oh, he'd pay for that.


End file.
